To Be
by acsbabyangelgirl
Summary: Sequel to No Day But Today. Mark's back... and things are changing faster than anyone could imagine. Rated for language, because, well, it's RENT.
1. Chapter 1

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

A/n: Okay, okay, I give. Gosh you people are persuasive. Here's what you wanted, so you can all stop hovering around and move on with your lives. (I love doing this… I get to be really annoying, and no one can really call me on it!)

"_Hi, you've reached us. We aren't here right now. Or maybe we just don't want to talk to you. Oh well, leave a message, and you'll find out which is true!_" Mark laughed at Maureen's crazy answering machine message.

"Hey Mo, Jo. It's Mark. Just calling to tell you my flight's delayed. Again. It's fucking freezing out here… they're having to de-ice the plane, so it'll be another hour or so late," he said. Just as he was about to say goodbye, Maureen cut him off.

"Mark! How are you?" she asked. He sighed. For once, her bubbly-ness was annoying. Although the fact that he'd been stuck in the airport for twelve hours wasn't helping much.

"Pissed off mostly. Were you gone or screening?" he asked.

"We just walked in the door. Where are you?"

"Still in the same place I was when I talked to you twelve hours ago," he said.

"Sorry Pookie. But how's the trip been otherwise?" she asked him. He smiled.

"Can I tell you when I get home? At the Life, with everyone else," he said.

"Sounds great. We'll plan when you get here, okay? Oh, Pookie wants to talk to you," she said. Mark waited through what sounded like a small scuffle.

"Mark? You still there?"

"Yeah… _Pookie_," he said, smiling. He loved to torture her every once in a while.

"Call me that again and I'll kick your ass," Joanne replied. "Have you talked to Roger lately?"

"Not since I got here, why?" Mark asked.

"Benny's remodeling your building. Roger and Mimi moved back into her place, and Collins is using the empty apartment on the first floor while the loft is being worked on," she told him.

"Why's he remodeling? So he can charge more rent?" Mark asked. Joanne could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

"Hey, rent control. He can't do shit," Joanne told him. "He just wants to make the empty apartments more attractive to renters. They moved all your stuff in with Collins."

"Thanks for the heads up, Jo. I'd better go. The phone's telling me I'm out of money. Bye," he said. He hung up and walked back over to the row of hard plastic chairs, where he'd been waiting all day. He sighed and looked around, wishing he had his camera. But it was in his checked suitcase, where it would be safe.

* * *

Collins looked up at the sound of the door opening and smiled. "Hey Collins," Mark said, pulling his suitcase into the small apartment. It was only about half the size of the loft, but it would only be the two of them.

"Hey man. Have fun?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was great. Where's the bed around this place?" Mark asked.

"Through there. You tired?" Collins asked, pointing to a door.

"Wouldn't you be if you'd just spent 14 hours in an airport?"

"Touché." Collins went back to his book as Mark drug his suitcase across the room and into the bedroom. He crashed on the bed and closed his eyes.

* * *

By the time Mark woke up, the sun was already out. "You gonna get out of the bed today or not?" Collins asked, sticking his head in the door.

"Yeah, in a minute," Mark replied. He sat up and stretched. "Jetlag's a bitch."

"Benny called this morning. The apartment's going to be ready in a couple of days," Collins told him.

"Great. Back to climbing a million stairs to get home at night," Mark joked. He stood up and started looking around for some clothes. "Where's my shit?" Collins looked around, scratching his head.

"I dunno. It's around here somewhere," Collins said.

"I need my clothes," Mark pointed out.

"They might be in the closet," Collins suggested. "Or you could always take the clothes from your suitcase and wash them."

"That would take too long. We're all supposed to be meeting at the Life later on," Mark told him.

"Yeah, Maureen called this morning. Said to tell Roger and Meems," Collins said.

"I'll go when they wake up," Mark said.

"Too late. I told them when they came by a little while ago. They went to get some food," Collins replied. Mark looked confused. "It's like two in the afternoon, Mark. You've slept all fucking day."

"You've got to be kidding me," Mark said.

"Nope. You just slept for twelve hours straight," Collins told him.

"Yeah, well if it wasn't for the fact that I've got too much shit to do today, I could sleep for another 12 hours," Mark replied, pulling a shirt out of his suitcase. He sniffed at the armpits and looked it over before pulling off his tee shirt and throwing the new one on. Then he threw on his jeans from the day before. Then he threw the tee into the suitcase and zipped it back up. "I'll wash this junk tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

Mark pulled his jacket tighter around him as he raced down the street towards the Life. He was running late, thanks to a meeting with Alexi Darling. He'd wanted to cancel it, but she'd insisted that it would only take a minute. That was three hours ago, and he was just making it back. She'd spent hours trying to convince him to come back to Buzzline, especially after hearing about his newest documentary.

It wasn't until he was right outside that he realized how far he'd run… almost ten blocks. He hurried inside and straight back to the table where Roger, Mimi, Joanne and Collins waited. Maureen was nowhere in sight.

"Hey guys," he said, out of breath.

"Nice to see you finally decided to wake up," Roger said, smiling. Mark promptly flipped him off, causing the whole table to laugh. "Alright Jo, where is she? I'm starving here."

"When are you not starving, Davis? Just give her another couple of minutes," Collins said.

"She's just being her usual self – always wanting to make an entrance," Joanne told him. "You know what, just go ahead and tell us everything. It's her own fault for being late."

"It was great… I wish you guys could have been there," Mark began.

"Just get to the good part," Roger said.

"What makes you so sure there's a good part?" Collins asked.

"There's gotta be a good part, or why the hell else would we want to know?"

"Good point."

"Let the boy tell us what happened," Joanne said, shutting them both up.

"Thank you. Anyway, I didn't win anything," Mark said.

"I'm sorry, Mark," Mimi said, reaching to touch his hand.

"But I did get invited to a couple of other festivals… including Sundance." Everyone smiled and began to congratulate him. "They want to see some of my other stuff, too. I'm going to take 'Today 4 U'…"

"You should. It's some of your best work," Collins said. "Plus, it's got Angel."

* * *

Mark wound the film around a second reel. He'd finally finished copying his film, and now he just had to get it sent off to the event organizers. "How much longer is that going to take you?" Collins asked, walking out of his room.

"Just finished. Now all I have to do is get this in the mail," Mark said, prying the reel out of the machine. He put it into a plastic case and started writing on it in permanent marker.

"Well you might want to put that on hold. Benny just called… he wants us to move back into the loft today," Collins said.

"Is he fucking kidding? We aren't ready to move," Mark replied. "He's got to at least give us some warning about this shit."

"Yeah, well, what can you do? It is Benny we're talking about here," Collins reminded him. Mark sighed and looked down at the reel in his hands.

"I can't wait on this… I can't afford to lose it moving. Think you guys can start without me?" he asked.

"I guess. Just hurry," Collins said.

"Will do," Mark replied, running out of the apartment.

* * *

"Why does this shit have to be so fucking heavy?" Roger asked. He was helping Mark move all of the film editing equipment back up the stairs.

"Don't ask me," Mark grunted. He was having a hard time holding onto the heavy equipment. They trudged up a few more steps.

"Mark, I'm starting to lose my grip on this thing," Roger warned.

"Me too," Mark replied. Before either had a chance to react, it slipped out of Roger's hands and pushed Mark backwards, down the stairs and into the wall. Roger ran down the stairs and pushed the equipment away from his friend.

"Shit! Are you okay?" Roger quickly looked his friend over, noting that his left wrist was bent at an odd angle.

"I'm fine," Mark said. He started to get up, but the pain in his wrist stopped him from putting any pressure on it. He finally managed to stand, holding his injured arm close to his body.

"Is it broken?" Roger asked. Mark shook his head.

"No. Just needs some ice," he said.

"Don't fuck with me, Mark. Let me see," Roger replied, reaching out for Mark's arm. The filmmaker pulled away.

"Don't touch it! It's fine," Mark said.

"Let me see, or I'll fucking carry you to the emergency room… and I do mean literally carry," Roger said. Mark sighed and let Roger examine his wrist, wincing every time it was forced to move.

"Stop, please," Mark said, trying to pull away. It hurt so badly, he could feel the tears coming.

"You need to go to the hospital," Roger told him. He didn't let go of Mark's arm.

"Okay," Mark said, giving in. It hurt too much to argue. Roger let go of his arm and started up the stairs.

"I'll be right back, I've got to go tell Collins where we're going," Roger said.

* * *

Mark couldn't help but fidget on the subway ride back to the loft. He was tired, and uncomfortable, and the damn cast was hot. It also didn't help that the car was packed and it was all he could do to keep from actually bumping into someone besides Roger. After what felt like forever, the subway car finally slowed to a stop. The two men pushed their way out, Mark being careful to keep his cast away from anyone else. They finally managed to make it to the street and began trudging back towards the loft.

"I'm sorry," Roger said, not looking at his friend.

"It's no big deal." Roger smiled.

"Typical. I break you fucking wrist, and you say it's no big deal," Roger said.

"It's not like you dropped all that shit on purpose," Mark replied.


	3. Chapter 3

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

"SPEAK." Mark looked up at the answering machine as it took the call.

"Yes, I'm looking for a Mark Cohen," a man's voice said. Mark rolled his eyes and got up off of the couch. He listened as the man continued to speak, before he could get to the phone. "This is Bryan Simmons from the San Francisco film festival."

"Mr. Simmons?" Mark asked, picking up the phone.

"Mark?"

"Yeah. Hi. What's up?" Mark asked.

"I was just calling to make sure you're still coming for the festival next week," the man asked.

"Right… yeah, I'm still planning on being there," Mark said. He turned around as the loft door opened. Roger stood there looking at him. "Could you hold on a second?" Mark asked, before addressing Roger. "What?"

"I got paid. What do we need food wise?" Roger asked.

"Uh… I don't know, check the fridge," Mark said, before going back to the phone conversation he was having. Roger walked over to the fridge, not bothering to close the loft door. He peered in and then checked the cabinets as Mark finished his conversation. As soon as Mark hung up, Roger started towards the door.

"You want to come?" Roger asked.

"To the store? No thanks," Mark replied.

"If you think I'm about to let you get all depressed like I was, you're insane. Get your coat. You haven't left the loft in a week," Roger said.

"Roger…"

"Get your coat or freeze. It's your decision. But you are coming with me whether you like it or not," Roger told him.

"Asshole," Mark muttered, picking up his coat. He put it on as best as he could, considering the fact that his left arm was basically useless. Roger attempted to help, but Mark pushed him away. "I've got it." After a couple of minutes, he was finally ready to go.

"No camera?" Roger asked as he shut the loft door.

"We're going for groceries, Rog. Not exactly exciting stuff," Mark reminded him. Roger just shrugged. "Why are you so interested all of a sudden anyway?"

"No reason. Just figured you might be in need of some footage for your next film," Roger told him. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well that's not happening any time soon. It takes two hands to operate my camera," Mark told him. He adjusted the sling as they made their way down the stairs.

"Are you ready for next week?" Roger asked. Mark just shrugged.

"I guess. They've got my films… what more can I do?"

"It's great, you know? That this is happening and everything," Roger said.

"Yeah. How's Mimi?" Mark asked. Roger had been staying with her in her apartment because she hadn't been feeling well. She wasn't sick, but they all knew that she was getting weak again.

"Okay. She went in to work today. Said she couldn't afford to miss any more work," Roger said. Mark nodded.

"She'll be okay," Mark said. "She's strong."

"She's not as strong as she used to be. I'm not sure she's going to make it if it gets that bad again," Roger admitted. "It's a miracle she pulled through last time… that she managed to make it for two years without catching anything."

* * *

Mark hurried down the street towards the Life. Roger and Mimi were both at work, so he had to go alone. He was meeting Maureen, Joanne and Collins for dinner, because he was leaving for San Francisco in the morning. He hurried inside, colliding with someone who was on their way out.

"Sorry," he muttered, not looking up to see who it was. It wasn't until the person reached out to touch his shoulder that he noticed her. "Liz."

"Hi, Mark," she said, smiling at him. "It's nice to see you again." He forced a smile.

"Yeah. Nice to see you too," he lied. He turned and started to go inside.

"Look, Mark, if it's any consolation, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm back in town now… same apartment. If you ever want to talk."

"Yeah. Right," Mark said. "I'm running late." He hurried away, into the restaurant. As soon as he was inside, Maureen came over and hugged him.

"I'm guessing you saw her," Maureen said. He smiled at her.

"Yeah. She's trying to get back on my good side," Mark told her.

"Please tell me you aren't getting back with her," Maureen said, leading him back to the booth where Collins and Joanne were waiting.

"I'm not a masochist, Maureen. At least, not any more," Mark replied. He sighed and adjusted the sling. He sat down next to Collins as Maureen slid in next to Joanne.

"How's your arm?" Joanne asked.

"It's okay. Hurts a little, but nothing too bad. Mainly because Liz and I literally ran into each other," Mark told them. He shifted uncomfortably. "We should order."

"We already did… got you your usual," Collins replied.

"Thanks."

* * *

Mark looked around the airport, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do next. He lifted his suitcase higher onto his shoulder and made his way towards the doors, hoping there would be someone there to meet him. He didn't have money on him for a cab.

"Mr. Cohen?" a voice asked. Mark turned around and came face to face with a man in a navy blue suit. "Are you Mark Cohen?" the man asked again.

"Yeah, hi," Mark replied.

"I'm Bryan Simmons. We spoke on the phone." Mark smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, right. It's nice to finally meet you," he replied, shaking the man's hand.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I've got a car waiting over here, if you're ready to go," Bryan told him. Mark nodded and followed the man. "I just have to say, we're so excited to have you here. I got a chance to see your other film, and it's wonderful."

"Thanks."


	4. Chapter 4

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

Mark sat on the edge of his hotel room bed, listening to the telephone ring on the other end of the line. "SPEAK."

"Hey it's Mark. Someone pick up," he said. He waited for a moment, hoping someone would pick up. "Hello? Is anyone home?" He waited a little bit longer before sighing. "I guess I'll call back later. I miss you guys." He hung up the phone and looked around the small hotel room. It was comfortable, but it wasn't home. And for the first time in his life, he was homesick.

Mark rolled over and stared at the alarm clock, trying to decipher the numbers without his glasses. He still hadn't slept at all. He jumped as the phone rang, before picking it up. "Hello?" he asked, reaching up and pushing the hair out of his face.

"Mark? It's Roger."

"Hey man, what's up?" Mark asked.

"Sorry I wasn't here earlier. Some shit came up," Roger told him.

"What's going on?"

"I was down with Mimi… she's catching a cold," Roger replied. "Someone had to stay with her until I could get hold of Maureen. Mimi told me that if I came anywhere near her before she got better, she'd kill me," Roger joked.

"You don't need to get sick too," Mark said.

"I know. I've been lucky so far." Mark heard him sigh. "How are things going out there?"

"Okay. They're showing the documentaries starting tomorrow," Mark told him. "How are you holding up?"

"I'll be okay. Don't worry about me," Roger replied. Mark heard him sigh again. "I'm going to go to sleep, okay? I haven't slept since we got home last night. You could use some sleep too, I'm sure."

"Yeah. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah. 'Night, Mark."

"Night."

* * *

Joanne looked at her watch once again, praying Mark's plane would be on time. She kept one eye on the board that announced arrivals as she answered her cell phone. By the time she'd managed to put out a minor emergency at the office, Mark's plane had been on the ground for five minutes. She looked around, praying he would show up soon.

"Joanne?" Mark asked, walking up to her. She smiled at him.

"Hey, Mark. Have fun?" she asked.

"Yeah. I thought Roger was going to be here," Mark told her.

"He's with Mimi," Joanne said. "At the hospital."

"When did that happen?" Mark asked.

"This morning."

"I talked to Maureen this morning," Mark told her.

"We didn't want you to worry the whole way home," Joanne explained. She led him toward the baggage claim area. He followed her. She took his suitcase off of the carousel and led him out to the car she'd obviously borrowed from her parents.

"How bad is it?" he asked, as they got into the car. Joanne sighed.

"She put it off as long as she could. Her cold developed into pneumonia… it doesn't look good," Joanne admitted. Mark just nodded.

"How's Roger taking it?"

"Better than you'd think. I think he's been preparing himself for this for a while," Joanne told him. She started the car and the two of them headed for the hospital.

* * *

Mark stood in the doorway, watching his best friend cry. They'd just gotten home from the hospital, where they'd stayed for two days. Mark took a deep breath before walking into the room. He put his good arm around Roger's shoulders and held him as he cried. After a while, the tears stopped flowing and Roger's shoulders stopped shaking. His sobs ceased as he looked up at Mark.

"Thanks," Roger muttered. He pulled away from Mark's hug and walked out to the windows in the main room of the loft.

"No problem," Mark replied. He followed Roger, going into the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. He put out their mugs and waited for the coffee to perk. He poured it out and handed a mug to Roger. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. I sort of expected it, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. But I also know it still hurts, even when you're expecting it," Mark replied. He sat down next to Roger by the window and the two looked out. "She'd be upset if she thought you were wallowing."

"I just need some time to get used to it… to not having her there. To not being able to watch her every night, trying to protect her from the creeps," Roger told him. Mark just nodded.

"She's good, now. She's safe… away from all of the creeps. And she's watching us, just like Angel." Roger just nodded as Mark talked.

"It was just so fast. With Angel, we had time to really say goodbye," Roger said. Mark nodded.

"Yeah, we did. But we had more time with Mimi before she got sick. You made her last few years great, you know? She was really happy with you," Mark said. "That's all you can do, some times. You did what you could for her."

"I should have been the one to go first… it was my turn to get sick, not hers," Roger told him.

"You've been lucky so far, Roger. She was just too sick to fight it this time," Mark replied. "It was just her time, you know?"

"It didn't have to be her time to go. If I'd kept her home…" Roger began.

"She would have resented you. You couldn't have stopped her if you'd wanted to, Roger, and you know it. She might have been small, but she was even more hardheaded than you," Mark reminded him. They both glanced out the window.

"What are we going to do now? We can't exactly afford a funeral," Roger said.

"I've got some money. We'll be okay," Mark said.

"You can't work right now. I'll be lucky if they don't fire me for missing so much work. Where are we going to get money to buy food from?" Roger asked him.

"I sold my films. I'm still taking them to Sundance, but someone at one of the distributing companies was really impressed. He bought them both," Mark said. "It's a pretty nice advance, plus royalties when it starts playing."

"I can't take your money, Mark," Roger replied.

"You aren't. It's for Mimi."


	5. Chapter 5

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

"Come with me," Mark said, walking into Roger's room.

"What are you talking about?" Roger asked.

"Come to Colorado with me."

"You're out of your mind. I don't have money for a plane ticket," Roger told him.

"It's taken care of. And before you ask, no, I didn't pay for it. Just come, Roger. You haven't left the city in years. You need to get out of town for a while, especially now," Mark said.

"I'm not interested. Take Maureen."

"Either you're going with me, or neither of us is going," Mark said.

"Hope you don't mind missing it, then. Because I'm not going," Roger replied.

"Your name's already on the ticket."

"Too bad."

"Stop acting like a petulant child, Roger. You know Mimi wouldn't want to see you like this," Mark reminded him. Roger looked around the room and sighed.

"Fine. I'll go," Roger said. "When are we leaving?"

"Friday. That gives you time to get off work, right?" Mark asked.

"Yeah."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark watched as Roger sat next to Mimi's headstone. He could tell that his friend was crying as he spoke. He just waited, knowing that Roger needed to do this. He himself still needed to do this, but he wanted to put it off for as long as possible. He didn't feel the immediate need for closure. Despite his promises to his friends to open up and not to hold his emotions in, he still felt as though it was his job to be strong for the rest of them.

After a while, Roger stood up and walked over towards Mark. "Sorry," the rocker muttered, wiping the tears out of his eyes. Mark simply nodded.

"It's okay."

"I can wait on you, if you want," Roger said, looking off towards the headstone.

"No, I'll come back later," Mark said.

"Don't bottle it up again, Mark," Roger warned as they walked away.

"I'm not. I just… I need more time," Mark replied.

"It's been two weeks. We're leaving for Colorado tomorrow, and you won't get the chance for another few weeks," Roger told him.

"I know."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark yawned as Roger shoved the key into the lock of their motel room door. It was the middle of the night, and the two had just gotten into town. After a few moments of struggling, the door finally opened and the two walked inside, turning on the lights.

"What the fuck?" Roger asked, looking at the bed. There was only one. "You've got to be kidding me."

"It's too late to deal with this tonight, Rog. We'll work it out in the morning," Mark said. "I can sleep in the floor."

"No, you take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor," Roger said, putting his suitcase in a corner near the back of the room.

"It'll be cold down there. You'll get sick," Mark said. "You take the bed."

"I'm not sleeping in the bed if you're on the floor. And you could get sick, too, in case you forgot," Roger replied.

"It would be worse if you got sick. I can take it," Mark said. He threw his suitcase into the corner with Roger's.

"You're too fucking hard headed," Roger said. "I haven't been sick in a long time. I'll be fine."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this. Go to bed," Mark said, walking towards the bathroom. Roger sat down on the bed and waited for Mark to come back out.

"I'm not sleeping on this bed if you're in the floor," Roger said. "It's a big bed, Mark. There's room for both of us."

"You sure?" Mark asked.

"Of course I'm sure. I'd have to be a total asshole to make you sleep on the floor," Roger said. He sighed and took off his jacket, throwing it on top of their luggage.

LINELINELINELINE

Roger rolled over in his sleep and pulled the warm body next to him closer. "S'cold, Meems," he muttered, not even opening his eyes.

When Mark woke up a few hours later, it took him several moments to figure out where he was and who was holding him so close. "Roger?" he asked, somewhat confused.

"What?" Roger asked, not opening his eyes.

"Why are you hugging me?" Mark asked. Roger opened his eyes, before quickly pulling away from his best friend.

"Sorry. I must have gotten cold," Roger said, getting out of the bed quickly. "Sorry."

"S'okay. Weird, but okay," Mark said. He stood up and stretched. Roger looked away quickly; he couldn't stand to watch the skin stretch across Mark's bones. He was still so skinny.

"How much weight have you gained back?" Roger asked.

"Can we not talk about my weight, please?" Mark asked, throwing on a tee shirt.

"I can still see your ribs poking through your skin," Roger replied.

"I have a hard time gaining weight, Rog. High metabolism," Mark told him. He walked over towards the bathroom. "I'm getting in the shower." Roger sighed and laid back down in the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

"You hardly ate anything for breakfast," Roger pointed out as he and Mark left the restaurant.

"God Roger, stop trying to be my mother," Mark said, walking back towards the hotel.

"Someone has to. You don't seem to be taking care of yourself," Roger told him. "Why didn't you eat?"

"I'm not used to eating a lot at breakfast. We don't normally have anything other than Cap'n Crunch," Mark reminded him. "I'm fine Roger, just drop it. The whole reason I invited you to come with me was to get your mind off of everything."

"I don't need to get my mind off of everything. I'm fine," Roger replied. "You're the one I should be worried about."

"I'm fine," Mark replied.

"You aren't eating."

"Roger, fuck off. I'm not your responsibility," Mark told him.

"If something happens to you, Maureen and Joanne would kill me," Roger told him.

"You've got to stop worrying about me, Rog. I can take care of myself."

"Just…" Roger began.

"It's cold. Let's go," Mark said, ending the conversation.

LINELINELINELINE

"Hello?" Maureen asked, picking up the phone.

"Mo? It's Roger."

"Hey! Pookie, Roger's on the phone!" Maureen called. "How are you guys doing?"

"Okay. It's so crazy out here. You would love it," he told her.

"How's Mark?" she asked.

"He's… he's okay," Roger replied.

"What aren't you telling me?" Maureen asked, hearing the pause in his reply.

"Did you know he hasn't been eating?" Roger asked her.

"What?"

"He isn't eating. He hasn't gained back any of the weight he lost when he was sick," Roger told her. "He keeps telling me he'll eat, or that he isn't hungry."

"Is he there? Let me talk to him," Maureen said.

"No, I went out, told him I was going to get something from the convenience store on the corner," Roger said.

"You know, he didn't eat a whole lot before he got sick. He's probably just too used to not eating," Maureen told him.

"I'm worried about him." Maureen could hear Roger sigh. "It's been almost a year."

"He's stubborn, Roger. If you're hounding him, you know he's going to do exactly the opposite of what you want him to," Maureen said. "Just like you."

"Yeah, I guess," Roger said, leaning against the wall next to the pay phone. "Let me talk to Joanne for a minute, okay?"

"Sure. Just a sec."

LINELINELINELINE

"Hey, Roger," Mark said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry… about the other day," Mark said. They were waiting for their plane to start boarding to go back to New York.

"Don't worry about it. Just promise me you'll eat, okay?"

"Okay."

LINELINELINELINE

"You're home!" Maureen cried, throwing herself at the two men. They both stumbled under her added weight.

"Mo, you're going to knock us over if you aren't careful," Roger told her. She let go and moved away.

"Sorry. I missed you guys," she said. She put her arms through theirs and drug them over towards where Joanne was waiting with Collins. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Mark replied. He forced a smile and went with her.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here," Roger said.

LINELINELINELINE

"Are you okay?" Roger asked, walking into Mark's room. His friend was sitting the edge of his bed, and Roger could tell he didn't feel well.

"I'm just tired," Mark replied, lying down.

"Are you getting sick?" Roger asked. Mark nodded and closed his eyes. "Want me to get Maureen and Joanne?"

"No. Just keep Collins out of here, okay?" Mark said. "You'd better stay away, too."

"Yeah, okay. You need anything?" Roger asked.

"Water. And the Tylenol, please," Mark replied. Roger nodded and went to the bathroom, bringing back the things Mark had requested, as well as a thermometer.

"You want me to just leave it here?" Roger asked, standing just inside the doorway. Mark looked over and nodded.

"Yeah." Roger put the items on the floor and started out. "You might better close the door." Roger complied, before walking over to Collins's bedroom.

"Hey, Mark's getting sick. He told me to tell you to stay away," Roger said, standing in the doorway.

"What's he got?" Collins asked, looking up from the papers he was grading.

"I don't know. He looks like crap, though," Roger replied.

"Should we call someone?"

"He said not to. I don't really know what to do," Roger told him.

"Just leave him alone for now, I guess. If he isn't feeling better in the morning, call Maureen," Collins said. "That boy's getting sick too easily."


	7. Chapter 7

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

Roger stood in the door of Mark's room, watching Mark cough. "Are you okay?" Roger asked, as soon as Mark stopped coughing.

"Yeah. It's just a cold," Mark said, taking a drink of water. "Just stay away for a while."

"You need anything?" Roger asked.

"Could you bring me some more water?"

"Sure," Roger replied. He went into the kitchen and got another glass of water, before bringing it back and putting it just inside the doorway. "Call me if you need anything." He shut the door and went back into his own room, leaving his door open in case Mark needed him.

Roger woke up as he heard someone out in the main part of the loft. He got up and walked out, looking to see who it was. "Mark? You okay?" he asked, noticing the man sitting on the couch. He started to walk over towards Mark.

"I'm okay. Go back to bed, Roger," Mark said. He stood back up and started walking towards the bathroom again. He stopped and started coughing, leaning against the wall. Roger started to help him, but he shook his head. "Stay… away."

"Mark, maybe I should take you to the doctor in the morning," Roger said, staying back. Mark shook his head again, catching his breath.

"No. I'll be okay," Mark told him.

"What if it's pneumonia again?" Roger asked.

"I don't think it is," Mark said, walking into the bathroom. Roger waited for him to come out. "Roger, just go to bed. I'm fine."

"Not until you're in bed." Mark sat down on the couch again, too tired to get back to his room.

"I'm just going to stay here for a while," Mark said.

"You're too tired to get back to your room, aren't you?" Roger asked. Mark closed his eyes and nodded before starting to cough again. Roger waited until he was done and walked over, picking Mark up. "Come on," he said, carrying his friend back to the bed. He covered Mark up and walked out.

"Thanks, Rog," Mark said, closing his eyes. Roger nodded and shut the door before walking back into his own room.

LINELINELINELINE

Roger picked up the phone and started to dial Maureen and Joanne's number, but stopped when he heard Mark coughing. He walked over and opened the door to his room, checking on him. Roger waited for him to stop. "You okay?" Roger asked.

"Yeah," Mark said, grabbing for the glass of water. Even from across the room, Roger could hear that he was having trouble breathing.

"Do you want me to call someone?" Roger asked.

"No, I'm okay," Mark said, putting the water down.

"You sound like shit," Roger replied. "You really need to go to the doctor, Mark."

"I'll be okay, Roger," Mark said. Roger could tell by the look on his face that even carrying on a simple conversation was tiring him out. He watched as Mark closed his eyes again.

"Mark, you're having trouble breathing. And don't even try to tell me you aren't, because I can hear it from all the way over here," Roger said. He walked into the room and picked the thermometer up off of the nightstand. He handed it to Mark, who sighed and stuck it in his mouth. They waited for it to beep in silence. Finally it beeped, and Roger took it from him. "Fuck. That's it, you're going to the doctor." Roger rummaged through Mark's clothes until he found something for his friend to wear. He threw the shirt and jeans onto the bed. "Come on, you've got to get dressed."

"Roger, please," Mark said. "I don't need a doctor."

"You have a fever of 103. You're going, end of discussion."

"Okay. But not the hospital," Mark replied.

"Fine."

LINELINELINELINE

Roger stayed as still as possible so he wouldn't wake Mark up. The smaller man had fallen asleep against his shoulder in the waiting room of the clinic. "Mark Cohen," a nurse called. Roger nudged his friend.

"Mark, wake up. They called you," he said. He kept shaking his friend, and began to get worried when he wouldn't wake up. "Mark, come on."

"Mark Cohen?" the nurse asked, looking around the room.

"I can't wake him up," Roger told her. She hurried over, checking for a pulse. She turned toward the receptionist.

"Stacy, get a doctor out here now," she called.


	8. Chapter 8

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

A/n: Ah, I bet the suspense is killing you! Sorry guys, but I had to end it there. It's always more interesting when there's something to bring you back for the next chapter.

Roger sat in the back corner of the waiting room, exhausted. He glanced at his watch, trying to figure out how long he'd been waiting. He'd already tried calling all of their friends, only to be greeted by answering machines at both addresses. Once he realized he'd been waiting for nearly an hour, he got up and walked towards the nurse at the check in desk.

"Excuse me," he said, smiling weakly at her.

"Yes?"

"I'm wondering if you can tell me anything about my brother," he lied. "Mark Cohen." He waited as she typed the name into the computer.

"There's nothing up yet. I can go track down his doctor, if you'd like," she replied.

"No, that's okay." He sighed and walked back to his corner, closing his eyes as he sat down. After a few minutes, he heard someone walk up. He opened his eyes and looked up at the doctor.

"You're Mr. Cohen's brother?" the doctor asked. Roger shook his head, lying once again. "I'm Dr. Delgado."

"Is he okay?" Roger asked. The doctor sat down in the chair across from him.

"He has a pretty serious case of pneumonia. We've started him on a round of IV antibiotics. And I must say, I'm very concerned about his weight," the doctor told him. Roger nodded.

"Yeah, I know. We've had a hard time keeping food around the past few months. He lost a lot of weight from the chemo last year," Roger replied.

"What kind of cancer did he have?" the doctor asked.

"Leukemia. He's been in remission for about nine months," Roger said. "Can I see him?" The doctor nodded.

"He hasn't woken up yet, but I don't see why you couldn't stay with him until someone comes to move him upstairs. I should warn you, though, that he doesn't look good. We've put him on a respirator for the time being." Roger nodded and followed the doctor back into the emergency room.

LINELINELINELINE

Maureen silently nudged a sleeping Roger. She smiled at him as he opened his eyes and unfolded his body from the hospital chair he had been sitting in. "Hey," he whispered, glancing over at the bed. "When did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago. How is he?" she asked, glancing back at Mark's sleeping form. Roger sighed, looking at him.

"I don't know. They said it's pneumonia again," Roger told her. "I took him to the doctor this morning, but when the nurse called his name, I couldn't wake him up. He still hasn't."

"You should go back to the loft. Get some rest. I'll stay with him for a while," she said. Roger looked up at her and sighed.

"Call me if he wakes up, okay?"

"I will. Just take care of yourself too, Roger," she reminded him. He nodded and got up to go, but not until he'd stopped next to his friend's bed. He pushed the hair out of the filmmaker's face.

"I'll be back, man. Maureen's going to stay with you for a while," he said. He sighed and walked out of the room, leaving the filmmaker alone with the drama queen.

LINELINELINELINE

Maureen gently took Mark's right hand in her own, rubbing the back of his hand gently with her thumb. "Hey baby, it's Mo," she whispered. She didn't like the idea of talking to someone who couldn't talk back, but the nurses had told her that it might help. "God, baby, how did you let yourself get this sick? I thought you would have learned your lesson last time." She sighed and glanced over at the cast on his other arm. She smiled. "You were supposed to get your cast off tomorrow… I guess someone needs to call the doctor and reschedule, huh?" She brushed a stray piece of hair off of his forehead, being careful not to disturb anything. "You've got to wake up, baby. You scared the shit out of us today."

LINELINELINELINE

Roger sighed as he walked down the hall towards the ICU. It had been two days. They were all thoroughly exhausted, but they couldn't just leave Mark there alone. He still hadn't woken up. Roger stood just outside of Mark's room for a moment, watching Joanne and Maureen talking to him. He walked into the room, smiling at them.

"Anything?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"No. Not yet," Joanne replied. He sat down in the chair next to the bed with a sigh. "Maybe today."

"Yeah, maybe." Roger looked off towards the tiny window that looked out over a parking garage. He smiled at them again as they made their way out of the room, before turning to Mark. "Hey, it's me." He waited for a moment before continuing. "Come on, man. It's great outside… perfect weather for you to go film stuff." Roger silently took Mark's hand in his own. "Come on, Mark. I can't take much more of this." He just sighed and looked down at Mark's hand. After a moment, he felt Mark squeeze his hand gently. He looked up as his friend slowly opened his eyes. "Hey."

Roger watched as Mark reached up towards his face, his fingers grazing over the tube coming out of his mouth. "Hey, don't touch it, okay? Let me get a nurse to take care of it," Roger said, standing up. He walked out for a moment and then returned with a nurse and doctor in tow.

It was several minutes before the two were alone again. Once the two had finally left, Roger smiled at Mark. "Hey."

"Hey," Mark said. His voice was weak and raspy. "What happened? Last I remember, we were in the loft and you were telling me I had to go to the doctor."

"You fell asleep at the doctor's office. When it was your turn, we couldn't get you to wake up," Roger told him. Mark closed his eyes. "Why don't you try to get some sleep? You probably don't need to be talking right now anyway." Mark nodded, not opening his eyes.

"What about the cast?" he asked.

"What about it?"

"I was supposed to get it off tomorrow," Mark said, confused about the day.

"That was yesterday," Roger said. Mark opened his eyes and gave the rocker a questioning look. "You've been out for two days."

"Fuck," Mark muttered, pushing the hair out of his face yet again.

"Don't worry about it. Collins called and told them you couldn't make it. You'll just have to wear that thing for another week or so," Roger told him.

"Wonderful."

A/n: Hahaha… it's so funny, I finished this chapter in the middle of "Wonderful" from _Wicked_.


	9. Chapter 9

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

Roger was surprised to hear an argument coming from Mark's hospital room. They'd moved him out of the ICU, and they were all hoping that he could go home soon.

"What's going on?" he asked, walking in. Joanne sighed and walked over to him.

"He wants to leave. The doctor tried to get him to talk to a psychiatrist," Joanne told him.

"What the fuck for?"

"They think he has an eating disorder," Joanne explained. Roger sighed and walked over towards the bed.

"Hey man," he said. Mark looked up at his friend.

"Would you please to tell…" He paused for a moment to cough, groaning as he caught his breath again. "… those idiots that I don't need a fucking shrink."

"Calm down, okay man? They're just trying to help," Roger said.

"I don't need that kind of fucking help." Mark had to stop again to cough. "Could you find someone to take this stupid thing out so I can go home?" he asked, motioning to the IV line.

"Mark, think about this for a minute. You're still pretty sick. If you go home now, you might just end up back here in a few days, in worse condition than you were," Maureen reasoned.

"I don't give a shit," Mark told her. He closed his eyes. "I just want to go home."

"I know, baby. It's just for another couple of days," Maureen said. She pushed the hair out of his face. "Just a little longer." Roger waited until his friend had calmed down before he said anything else.

"Mark, you know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to just talk to the doctor," he suggested quietly.

"Roger…" Maureen began. Mark shook his head and stopped her.

"No, Mo. Maybe he's right," Mark said. He sighed and took her hand. "I'll do it." She smiled at him before leaning over to kiss his forehead.

LINELINELINELINE

Roger looked up as the psychiatrist walked out of Mark's room. The man had been in there for over an hour. Roger sighed and stood up, walking back into the room. He smiled at his friend as he entered. "Hey. How was it?" Roger asked.

"Okay. He told me I was depressed," Mark said, rolling his eyes. "But he did at least say that he didn't think I had anything seriously wrong with me."

"I told you it would be okay," Roger said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed.

"I want to go home," Mark said.

"I thought we already went through this," Roger replied.

"I know. But these four walls are driving me crazy."

"It's not for much longer."

"That's what Maureen said yesterday. I'm sick of being sick," Mark told him. Roger could hear that he was upset. "I'm sick of all of it. I'm sick of hospitals, I'm sick of putting up with all of this shit. I'd rather fucking die than go through all of this."

"Mark, don't say shit like that. You weren't even that depressed…"

"Don't even say it, Roger. I don't want to hear about it," Mark said. He closed his eyes. "Just go, okay Roger? Just leave me alone for a while."

LINELINELINELINE

Roger pulled the pill bottles out of the bag and put them out on the kitchen counter where they would see them. Along with his and Collins's AZT, there were two new bottles. Antibiotics for Mark and a bottle of Prozac. He sighed and picked up the new bottles, getting a glass of water. He walked over to Mark's door and knocked, waiting for Mark to answer. When he didn't, Roger opened the door and walked in, putting the water and medicine down next to his glasses on the bedside table.

"Hey Mark, wake up," he said, shaking his friend gently. Mark opened his eyes and looked up at him.

"What, Roger?" he asked, sitting up. Roger handed him the glass of water and opened the bottle of antibiotics, getting out one of the pills and handing it to him. He swallowed it and put the water back down.

"Hey, wait, you've still got another one," Roger told him.

"I'm not taking that shit," Mark muttered, lying back down.

"I already paid for it. It'll help," Roger said.

"I don't need it, Roger." Roger opened the bottle and took out on of the pills. He picked up the glass and held both out to his friend. "I'm not taking it."

"I'm not leaving until you take it, Mark," Roger said. Mark sighed and sat up, taking the pill and the glass of water again. He swallowed the pill and pushed the glass back into Roger's hand.

"Happy?"

"Mark, it's going to help you," Roger said.

"Yeah, sure." Mark closed his eyes and rolled over to go back to sleep. Roger sighed and left, taking the medicine but leaving the glass of water behind. He closed Mark's door and put the pill bottles back, before picking up his guitar and starting to play softly.


	10. Chapter 10

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

Mark pulled open the door of the fridge and pulled out the bottle of milk. He poured himself a glass before putting it back. "You going to eat something with that?" Roger asked.

"I'm not that hungry," Mark told him. He went and sat down on the couch as Roger started rummaging around in the kitchen for some food. Mark closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the back of the couch. Roger made a box of macaroni and cheese, putting some into bowls for him and Mark. He picked the bowls up and carried them over to the couch.

"Here," he said, handing one to Mark. The smaller man took the bowl and started to eat.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"The girls said they would come over tonight, bring something decent for dinner," Roger told him.

"Sounds good," Mark said. Roger watched as he finished off the bowl and set it down on the table. "I'm going to go lay down for a while."

"Take your medicine first," Roger reminded him. Mark nodded and got up, walking into the kitchen. He took the antibiotics and started to make his way back to his room. "What about the Prozac?" Roger asked.

"I don't need another one yet," Mark replied. "I'm only supposed to take it twice a day."

"Right." Roger waited until he heard Mark's door close before he went and checked the instructions on the pill bottle.

"Checking up on me?" Mark asked from his doorway. Roger turned around to face him.

"No… I was just… I was going to…"

"Can it, Roger. I didn't lie to you, if you can't tell," Mark said, going back into his room and closing the door.

LINELINELINELINE

Roger opened the door of the loft to let Maureen and Joanne in. "Hey Roger!" Maureen yelled, pulling him into a hug. She walked into the room past him. "Where's Mark?"

"Sleeping," he said, taking a bag of food from Joanne. "Thanks," He said, motioning to it.

"No problem. How is he?" Joanne asked.

"Wouldn't know. He won't talk to me," Roger said, closing the loft door and taking the bag into the kitchen.

"Why not?" Joanne asked. She helped him pull the food out of the bag.

"He caught me checking the Prozac bottle," Roger admitted. "He doesn't want to take it."

"Is he taking it?" Joanne asked.

"I have to practically beg him, but he is at least taking it," Roger said. He glanced down at his beeper and sighed before swallowing one of his own pills. "Now I understand what a pain in the ass I was at first."

"He'll get over it once he realizes it's helping," Joanne said. Roger just nodded.

"I better go wake him up," Roger said, picking up the two pill bottles. He knocked on Mark's door before going into the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed and woke him up.

"Hey," Mark said, rolling over and opening his eyes.

"Hey. The girls are here. They brought food," Roger told him. He opened the pill bottles and got out one of each, handing them to Mark. He swallowed them quickly. "Listen, about earlier…"

"Forget about it," Mark said. He pushed back the blankets and got up. "Let's just go eat."

LINELINELINELINE

"I think someone fell asleep," Joanne said, motioning towards Mark. Maureen looked down at the small man leaning against her. "We should probably go. Do you need help getting him in bed?"

"No, I've got it," Roger said, getting up and picking his friend up so Maureen could move. He carried the man into his room and covered him up before going out to say goodbye to the girls.

"Tell him we said goodbye, okay?" Maureen said.

"Yeah, I will. Thanks, guys," he said, seeing them out. He started to clean up the mess they'd all made.

"Damn, I missed the party," Collins said, coming in. "You bitches have fun tonight?"

"Yeah. Where were you?" he asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Collins replied, smiling and picking up some of the mess to help Roger. "Mark's asleep?"

"It was the only way to get Maureen to leave," Roger told him. Collins smiled.

"Y'know, it's almost cute the way she tries to take care of him…" Collins said. "Until you remember the shit she used to put him through when they were together."

"Yeah."

"So, do you think he was really asleep, or just pretending to get rid of them?" Collins asked.

"He was pretending. He'll be coming back out here any second," Roger told him. "Even though he's really not supposed to join in with the real party."

"Has that ever stopped any of us?" Collins asked, opening the cabinet below the sink and recovering a half-full bottle of Stoli. "Hey, get your scrawny albino ass out here so we can have a real party," he called to Mark. Mark walked out of the bedroom and collapsed back onto the couch. "What's up man?"

"Not much. Where were you earlier?" Mark asked him.

"Out and about. You know, the usual," Collins replied.

"You didn't get beat up again did you?" Roger asked, half-joking.

"No, jackass, I didn't get beat up. Keep on insulting me and see if I let you have any of this," he said, pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels out of his jacket.

"You were going to hold out on us!" Roger accused.

"Just drink," Collins told him, pouring out a generous amount of the amber liquid.


	11. Chapter 11

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

Mark looked around quickly as he stepped out of his room, hoping that Roger wouldn't be around. Since he wasn't, Mark hurried across the room, wrapped his scarf around his neck, grabbed his camera and headed for the door. It wasn't until he was safely out of the loft and down a couple of flights that he realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. He walked outside into the cool air of early spring and sighed. Roger had been somewhat obsessive about Mark's health lately. Mark suspected it had something to do with the fact that Roger had no control over his own health.

Mark crossed the street quickly and walked into the Life Café, where Maureen was waiting for him. He walked to the back and slid into the booth across from her. "What's up, Mark?" she asked.

"I had to get out of that apartment. Roger's driving me insane," Mark replied.

"He's just worried about you. You don't look like you're getting better," she pointed out. Mark sighed and stared down at the table. "When are you going back to the doctor?"

"Which one?" Mark asked. "I have an appointment on the sixteenth. More blood work. They keep checking to see if the cancer's come back… it really freaks me out," he told her. Maureen took his hand in her own.

"I'm sure it will all be okay," she assured him.

"When have I heard that before?" he asked.

"You've got to stop worrying so much, Mark. You're going to give yourself an ulcer. And that's the last thing you need right now," she reminded him. He just nodded and sighed. "We should order. You need to eat something."

"I'm not really hungry. I had some Cap'n Crunch back at the loft," he said.

"You need more than a bowl of stale cereal, Mark."

"I didn't bring any money," he muttered.

"So then I'll pay. But you're going to eat," she told him. He just rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Thanks, Maureen."

LINELINELINELINE

"Hey," Mark said, opening the door and walking into the loft.

"Hey. Where were you?" Roger asked.

"I went to the Life to meet Maureen."

"Did you take…?"

"Yeah, I did. Don't worry so much, Roger. You'll give yourself an ulcer. Leave the worrying to me," Mark said, smiling.

"You're happy. Long time since I've seen you like that after talking to Maureen," Roger told him. Mark took off his scarf and threw it across a chair, then placed his camera down on a table near the door where he wouldn't forget it.

"Yeah. She's not as bad as she used to be."

"She got scared when you got sick. It changed her," Roger said.

"It changed everyone, I guess," Mark replied.

"We weren't exactly expecting to get so close to losing you. You're the one who's supposed to survive, remember?"

"Don't remind me." Mark walked over towards the kitchen cabinet and looked down at the two pill bottles lined up on the counter. The bottle of antibiotics had long since been finished off. He picked up the bottle of Prozac and looked quickly at the contents, mentally calculating how many more days he could go before he would need more. "We have any money left from last month?"

"Maybe a hundred dollars. Why?" Roger asked.

"Prozac's getting low. How are you on AZT?" Mark asked him.

"I've got plenty. I just refilled it two weeks ago," Roger replied. Mark nodded and turned around.

"What are we going to do about next month?"

"What do you mean?" Roger asked.

"The checks aren't going to keep coming forever, Roger. The movies aren't going to make money indefinitely."

"Yeah. But we can make it for a while still," Roger replied. "I'll find something. Don't worry so much, Mark."

"That's easy for you to say."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Roger asked.

"Let it mean whatever you want it to mean."

LINELINELINELINE

"I can't take this much longer," Mark said. He was talking to Collins from the payphone across the street from the Loft.

"Mark, you've got to calm down," Collins said. He'd moved back closer to the school once Mark was better. "What's going on over there?"

"I can't fucking control myself, Collins. It's like every nasty comment I've ever wanted to make is coming back. And I can't stop myself from saying them," Mark told him.

"Has Roger said anything to you about it?" Collins asked.

"No. I think he's probably trying to figure out how to approach it so he won't make me angry with him," Mark admitted. "I really don't mean to say this shit, it just slips out."

"Has the Prozac been helping any?" Collins asked.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm almost out," Mark admitted.

"Maybe you should lay off of the stuff for a while. You don't act like yourself on it," Collins told him.

"Maybe so. I don't know," Mark replied. The phone beeped indicating that his money had run out. "I've got to go, Collins. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye man." The two hung up and Mark made his way back across the street towards the loft. He climbed up the five floors quickly, only managing to earn himself a few minutes of wheezing.

"You okay, Mark?" Roger asked, coming out of his room at the sound.

"Yeah. Walked too fast," Mark replied. He sat down on the couch and waited until he could breathe more normally. "I guess I should know better by now, huh?"

"Yeah, guess so," Roger replied. He walked over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. "Want anything while I'm up?"

"No, I'm good," Mark replied. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch.

"Tired?"

"Yeah. But I can't go to sleep – doctor's appointment," Mark replied.

"Blood work again?"

"Yeah. Got to keep an eye on it so it doesn't have a chance to get bad if it comes back."

"You really think it will?" Roger asked.

"I don't know, Rog. All I know is that if it does, it's going to be up to Maureen and Joanne to survive and live for all of us," Mark told him.

"What?" Roger asked.

"The bone marrow transplant was a last resort, Roger," Mark told him. "If it comes back, there's nothing they can do."


	12. Chapter 12

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

A/n: Okay, I know it's taking me forever to post chapters, but I'm a college student now. I actually have to write papers and crap. It's a lot of work, and it doesn't leave a whole lot of time for writing.

Mark glanced down at the paper in his hands and sighed. It was over. He could no longer simply pretend to be okay. "How long?" he asked, not looking up at the doctor. Instead, he turned and stared out the window.

"A year, maybe a little more," the doctor told him.

"Is that with or without chemo?"

"With. Without, I'd give you nine months."

"Would there be any point in trying? Other than prolonging the inevitable?"

"Probably not. I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen. We did the best we could," the doctor told him. Mark nodded and shot him a quick smile before turning to leave.

* * *

"How did it go?" Roger asked, as Mark walked back into the loft. Mark ignored him. "Hello, Mark, I'm talking to you." Mark walked into his room and shut the door. Roger followed him, only to find him sitting on his bed, staring out the window at nothing. "Mark, what's going on?" He waited for a second, until the realization hit him. "How long?"

"Nine months. A year at the most."

"Are you okay?" Roger asked, walking closer to him. Mark smirked.

"What do you think?" Roger sat down on next to him. "I was afraid of this. I hadn't been feeling well for a while… and then the pneumonia."

"What do you need me to do?" Roger asked.

"Stick around. Don't fuck with me like Liz," Mark replied.

"I never would. You know that," Roger told him. Mark just shook his head and continued to stare out the window.

"I thought things were finally going to be okay, you know? That I was finally going to be able to get on with my life. And then it comes back and fucks everything up again," he said. He glanced down at the picture sitting on the table next to his bed. It was of him with Maureen, Joanne and Roger. They'd taken it the night he'd shown his last film to everyone… Mimi had already left for work, and Collins had refused to get in the picture. He picked it up, started to break the glass, and then thought better of it and set it gently back down.

* * *

Mark pulled his coat tighter around his body as he stood outside Liz's building, trying to work up the courage to ring her buzzer. He didn't want to talk to her, but he had to at least give her the chance to explain. Finally, he just gave in and pushed the button.

"Who is it?" she asked over the intercom.

"It's Mark… Cohen. I… We need to talk." He waited for a moment before she replied.

"I'll be down in a minute." Mark just sighed and sat down on the front stoop to wait on her. He glanced around at the other buildings, watching the people and wishing he had his camera until he heard the door open behind him. Liz walked out wrapped in her robe.

"I wasn't exactly expecting you," she told him.

"I wasn't expecting to come," he replied. "Why?"

"Why what?" she asked.

"Why did you leave? Why didn't you at least say goodbye?"

"It's complicated, Mark," she replied.

"I've got time. Hell, I've got nine months," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I was scared, Mark. What the hell did you expect? We hadn't even been dating a month, and all of a sudden you just drop this on me," she replied.

"It wasn't like I had any warning about it. And you wanted to know," he reminded her. He stood up. "I should have known this was a bad idea. I just thought that maybe I should give you the chance to explain." He started to walk away.

"Wait, Mark. What did you mean when you said you had nine months?" she asked. He turned around.

"I meant that I'm dying, Liz. And this time there's nothing they can do," he replied. He glanced down at her left hand. "Congratulations." He motioned towards the ring. "It's nice."

"Thanks."

"Who's the lucky guy?" he asked.

"Reggie." He nodded and turned away from her, headed back towards the loft, wishing he'd stayed away.

* * *

"She's fucking engaged to the bastard," Mark said. He leaned back against the couch cushions and sighed.

"She deserves him," Joanne said. It was quite evident from her tone of voice that she didn't mean the comment in a good way. "Have you decided what you're going to do?" she asked.

"No. There's always a chance, but I don't know that I want to spend what time I have left in the hospital," he said. She just nodded. Maureen walked over from the loft's kitchen and sat in Joanne's lap in the chair.

"You should at least give it a shot, Marky. You never know. It might work out for the best this time," she told him. He nodded.

"Or it could just make me too sick to enjoy what's left of my life," he said. Joanne closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.

"Mark, you need to stop thinking like that. You have to think about all of the other possibilities. Not just the negative outcomes," she reminded him. He stood up and walked toward his bedroom door.

"I'm sick of fighting this shit, Joanne! Just when I think it's gone and done with, it comes back. I don't know if I can take another round of it," he said. He turned and walked into his room, shutting the door behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

"He said that last time, too, Joanne. I don't think he's really ready to give up yet," Roger said. He and Joanne were sitting on the sofa in the loft, while Maureen had gone to try and talk some sense into Mark, who had gone up to the roof.

"We can't lose Mark. Not yet. He's the one that's holding us together now," Joanne told him. "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't still be with Maureen… and yeah, it would have saved me a lot of pain, but it's also because of him that she's turning into someone else… someone I love even more than the drama queen I met in the first place."

"Maybe it's just time to let go," Roger said. He sighed. "Maybe he was only supposed to stay with us long enough to get through Mimi's death."

"You can't really mean that."

"I have to accept that it might be the truth. I mean, it's God we're talking about here. There has to be some kind of plan," Roger said. Joanne smiled and shook her head.

"Never took you for the religious type," she replied.

"Yeah, well don't go spreading that around… Not exactly something I want to tell the world… might ruin my image," Roger joked. He laughed with her for a moment before turning serious again. "It'll all turn out for the best, Jo. You'll see."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark stared off across the tops of the buildings, ignoring the woman standing behind him. "Mark, it's okay. You can admit that you're scared," she said.

"It's not even that I'm afraid of it, Maureen. I accepted death a long time ago… I was ready for it then, and I'll be ready for it when it comes. I just don't want all of you trying to make my decisions for me," he replied.

"She means well," Maureen reminded him.

"I know. I just… I need time to make a decision that I can live with. I don't need everyone's opinions this time," he told her. He turned around to face her, sitting down on the ledge. "I don't want to do all of that again if it probably isn't going to work."

"It's your decision, Mark," she said, walking over towards him. She sat down next to him and put her arm around him. "You've got to do what you think is best."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark opened his eyes at the sound of the loft door opening. He smiled as Collins walked in. "Hey man," he said, sitting up and putting his glasses back on.

"Hey. Roger called me… told me what was going on," Collins informed him. Mark just nodded and looked down at the floor.

"I suppose now you're going to give me your opinion on what I should do," Mark said.

"Nah, man. It's not my place to tell you what's right or wrong," Collins said. He sat down in the chair. "I'm just here because y'all need me."

"Thanks, Collins," Mark said.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark dialed his grandmother's telephone number back in Scarsdale and waited as it rang. "Hello?" she asked.

"Hey Grandma," he said, leaning back against the door frame and sitting down on the floor.

"_Yeshula_! How are you?" she asked.

"Okay, I guess. How is everyone?"

"We're all fine here. What's wrong, _Yeshula_?" she asked. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Grandma… the cancer came back," he told her.

"_Yeshula_, Mark… are you going to be all right?" she asked. "What do you need me to do?"

"Grandma, there isn't much they can do this time," he replied. "They said I could do chemo again, but it probably wouldn't be worth it."

"What do you mean not worth it? It would save your life," she said.

"It didn't work last time. They doubt it will work this time either."

"But it's still worth trying, Mark. You can't just give up without a fight!"

"I did fight, Grandma. Two years ago. I don't have any fight left in me," he said. He glanced over towards Roger's door to make sure the musician hadn't listened to that part of the conversation. He still wasn't sure how to tell his friend.

"Mark, be serious here. Are you really ready to die?" she asked. He sighed.

"Of course not, Grandma. But I don't have a whole lot of choice in the matter," he reminded her. He forced himself into a standing position and walked back closer to the telephone base. "I have to go, Grandma. Tell everyone I love them," he said.

"Are we going to see you again?" she asked.

"I don't know. Just… just tell everyone, okay? I can't." He hung up and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes once again, this time to keep himself from crying.

"Mark?" Roger asked, walking out of his room. Mark slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, prompting Roger to run across the room to his friend. "Mark? Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down next to his best friend. Mark nodded and sighed.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," he said, trying to force the tears away. He opened his eyes and pushed away the small amount of moisture that had managed to leak out. Roger pulled his friend into a hug.

"It's okay, man. It's okay."


	14. Chapter 14

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

"Fuck," Mark said, rubbing his arm where he'd just run into the door frame. It had been a month since he'd been told the cancer had come back, and he was halfway through a round of chemo. It was much stronger than before. He could tell that he was beginning to lose his eyesight thanks to the drugs. Even with his glasses, it was getting harder to distinguish between objects that weren't within a foot of his face. Not that his eyesight had been very good to begin with.

"You okay?" Roger asked. He'd already learned to let Mark do things for himself as much as possible.

"Yeah. What's one more bruise?" Mark asked. He made his way slowly over to the couch, where he laid down and closed his eyes. "I don't remember being this fucking tired before."

"You were. You don't remember because you slept all the time," Roger pointed out. He'd also learned to avoid mentioning any bodily functions that might cause Mark to get sick. That was the last thing he needed.

"I guess you're right," Mark said. His eyes remained closed.

"You going to sleep there?" Roger asked.

"Yeah," Mark replied. The musician shivered at how weak his voice sounded. Losing his best friend was still a terrifying prospect.

LINELINELINELINE

Mark leaned over the toilet, dry heaving. He was in agony, but there was nothing he could do to stop the pain. Finally, after what seemed like forever, his stomach calmed down and he was able to breathe normally again. He sighed and lay down on the bathroom floor, unconcerned with the fact that it was dirty.

"Mark?" Roger asked, walking in. He left for a moment, returning with his jacket in hand. He slowly knelt down on the floor next to his friend and draped the jacket over him before pulling the smaller man into a sitting position. "Are you going to be okay now?"

"Yeah," Mark muttered, not opening his eyes. He let his head lean against Roger's shoulder as the musician slipped his arm under his legs and lifted him off of the floor. "I can't do this any more," Mark whispered as Roger carried him into his bedroom. Roger gently put him in the bed and covered him up.

"It'll be over soon," Roger told him. He pushed the hair out of the smaller man's face and sighed. "Just a couple more days, okay Mark?" The filmmaker didn't answer. He was already asleep.

LINELINELINELINE

Roger watched in silence as the nurse drew blood from Mark's arm. "It shouldn't take too long," the nurse assured them as she labeled the vial of blood. Mark sighed and closed his eyes as the needle was removed from his arm. He'd never liked needles. As soon as the nurse was gone, Roger watched as Mark's strong façade crumbled. He looked down at the floor and his shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. Roger walked over and gave him a hug.

"Hey, it's okay," Roger told him. Mark was crying into his tee shirt.

"I don't want to die," Mark admitted.

"I know you don't. No one does, Mark. But you've just got to get over your fear," Roger reminded him. He held his best friend for a few more moments until he had calmed down. Then Mark sat up and dried his face, shooting Roger a grateful smile.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Don't worry about it. I know you would have done the same for me," Roger said. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "C'mon, let's go get some lunch while we wait."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark was lying on the couch, staring up at the large hole in their ceiling. "Hey, you hungry?" Roger asked, walking over with a bowl of soup.

"Not really," Mark told him.

"You need to eat, Mark. You shouldn't starve yourself," Roger told him.

"Does it really matter any more? I'm going to be dead in a few months anyway," Mark replied. He slowly forced himself into a sitting position.

"I'm not going to let you starve yourself, Mark. The doctor said six months. I'm not letting you throw away what little time you have left," Roger said. He sat down on the couch next to his friend and forced the bowl into Mark's hands.

"You aren't my fucking mother, Roger," Mark reminded him.

"No, I'm not. But if I have to act like I am to keep you from killing yourself, then I sure as hell will," Roger said. He watched in silence as his friend stared down into the bowl of soup. "Mark, I know you're hungry. You haven't eaten anything in two days."

"I'm so sick of waiting," Mark muttered. Roger sighed.

"I know. But that's all you can do, Mark. You just have to accept it and try to live while you still have a little time left," Roger reminded him.

"Yeah," Mark sighed, picking up the spoon. He slowly began to eat. "I want you to promise me something, Roger."

"What?" he asked.

"Don't let me die in a hospital. When I get really sick at the end, just let me die here," Mark said. Roger nodded.

"Okay." Mark smiled a little and began eating his soup.

A/n: Well, this is the beginning of the end, y'all. I know that none of you are going to be very happy with me right now, but for me to write it so that he lives again at the end… it would just be too sappy. Plus, this way you all can't try and make me write another sequel, and I can actually get some work done on my other Rent fic, "Fifty-Four" (I won't start posting it until this one is finished, so don't start begging for it) and the novel I'm working on. So yeah, this one isn't going to go for too much longer. Probably just two more chapters.


	15. Chapter 15

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

"It's Halloween," Roger said. He was walking around the loft in a Freddy Kruger mask. Mark sat on the couch, watching him and laughing.

"Roger, take off the stupid mask. Jeff's going to be here with the girls any minute," Mark reminded him. Roger pulled it off and sighed, throwing it into the vicinity of his bedroom door.

"Yeah, don't want to scare two little girls to death," Roger replied. He walked over and sat down on the couch. "You're going to tell them tonight?"

"Yeah. Jessica's old enough to understand now and Hannah… Hannah needs to know, too," Mark said. Roger just nodded. He jumped up when he heard the phone ring and picked it up, before grabbing the keys and running to throw them down to Jeff.

"We should really just make more keys," Roger said, coming back to the couch.

"Yeah. It would make things a lot easier," Mark replied. He slowly started forcing himself into a standing position.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just need to get up for a while," Mark replied. He walked over towards the windows and looked out onto Avenue B. He turned around at the sound of the loft door opening and smiled as his two nieces came running to him from across the room.

"Uncle Mark!!" Hannah screamed, latching onto his legs. Mark smiled and gently pried her off so he could sit down on the window seat.

"Hi Hannah. Jessica," he said, pulling the girls into a hug. The two girls climbed up onto the window seat and sat on either side of him. Jeff stayed across the room, talking to Roger.

"Uncle Mark, you should come trick-or-treating with us," Jessica told him.

"I'd better not," he said. He pulled both girls closer to him, kissing each of them on the forehead.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" Hannah asked.

"No, sweetie. I'm not working any more," he replied. He sighed. "You both remember when Grandma got really sick, don't you?" Jessica nodded. "Well, Uncle Mark is sick, too." Hannah just frowned, unsure of what he meant. Jessica, on the other hand, burst into tears.

"But I don't want you to die!" she sobbed. He pulled her into another hug.

"I know, sweetie. I don't want to, either. But I'm really sick, and the doctors can't do anything else," he told her.

"You can't die, Uncle Mark! My ballet recital is next week and you promised you'd come," Hannah said. He smiled.

"I'll still be there, sweetie. I still have some time."

LINELINELINELINE

"You've made it to Thanksgiving," Maureen said, playing with the small amount of Mark's hair that had actually grown back. He was lying on the couch with his head in her lap.

"Yeah," he said, not opening his eyes. He was just too tired. Joanne walked over and sat down on the floor at Maureen's feet, since there wasn't any room left on the couch.

"Hey Mark, do you want to go lie down for a while?" she asked, noticing that he was falling asleep.

"No, I'm okay," he replied. He forced his eyes open for just a minute and smiled at the two of them. "How's work going, Joanne?" She smiled, knowing he was just trying to find a way to keep himself awake.

"It's going fine. Same as it was when you asked me that question two hours ago," she replied.

"Oh yeah," he said, closing his eyes again. "Maybe a nap would be a good idea," he said. He forced himself into a seated position, just as the door opened and Jeff came in with Hannah and Jessica. Mark smiled at the two girls, who ran over and gave him hugs before going to play on the window seat. He stood up, wobbling just a little until Maureen and Joanne both stood up and steadied him.

LINELINELINELINE

It was Christmas Eve. And it was the end. Everyone watched in silence as Mark's breathing began to slow, until it was almost non-existent. Finally he stopped completely. Maureen buried her head into Joanne's shoulder and began to cry. Jeff pulled Hannah and Jessica closer to him, and whispered to them that their Uncle Mark was in a better place. Collins and Roger just stood their in silence, unsure of what to do. After more than two years, it was finally over.

A/n: I know it's short. So sue me! I hate writing death… why do you think I didn't write Mimi actually dying?


	16. Chapter 16

**To Be**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or anything affiliated with it.

A/n: This is the final chapter, y'all.

Roger looked down at the closed casket in front of him and sighed before turning around. "Mark was my best friend. He could be a pain in the ass at times, but he saved my life. I was ready to give up after April died, and he wouldn't let me. He said it was because it would be a waste of talent for me to die. Really, I think he just didn't want to be left alone," Roger said, smiling. He paused for a moment. "I'm going to miss him. He was always there for me… I kind of feel like I let him down."

LINELINELINELINE

Mark looked down at his friends and sighed. "I don't want them to be sad," he said, quietly.

"They can't help it. But you'll see them again soon," Angel told him, pulling him into a hug. "I missed you all so much."

"We all missed you, too. Both of you," he said, pulling Mimi into a hug as well. "What do you think is going to happen to them now?" he asked.

"We just have to wait and see, Mark. Just wait and see."

THE END

A/n: Okay, yeah, I had to put up a little reunion at the end. It's always interesting to see Angel's perspectives in stories after her death.


End file.
